The Morning After
by Andatariel.x
Summary: Sometimes if you party too hard you'll forget the night before. Ooops. Bebe-centric. Oneshot.


**The Morning After**

A/N; I'm on a Bebe writing kick, so sue me. I'll be back to the Gregory fics in time, I promise.

* * *

Nobody is around when I wake up, except Wendy who I shared a bed with and she's fast asleep still, so I roll out of bed and realise I'm still wearing my clothing from last night but my shoes are nowhere to be seen and I think I remember kicking them off the previous night but I have no idea where and I doubt I'd want to put stilettos back on even if I knew where they were.

Instead I pick up my bag from the floor and find my fags and a lighter that isn't mine and head outside not bothering to fix my hair, make up or clothing. I step over Kenny who's facedown on the floor in the hall and steal his shoes as they've fallen off and I'm not going outside in my tights.

It's pretty cold out, but I didn't wear a jacket or sweater last night and don't even think I have one with me, I'm just that sensible. I sit on the curb outside the house trying to work out where we all ended up after we left the last bar but I can't fathom it right now.

I open my cigs and find myself dismayed, I got a pack of twenty before I went out; I have five left. Whoops. I seem to recall sharing with two people last night, both of them had accents but I vaguely knew one from school and got chatting to the pair of them, I don't know what we talked about though, I was too hammered to remember.

My head is killing and I contemplate finding the kitchen for water so I can take some painkillers once I've had this cig. I'm still not impressed with myself over how much I smoked and it's a good thing I don't have any way of telling how much I drunk because I think I'd feel bad if I knew.

I look down at my legs and spot a big rip in my fishnets and don't know how or when it got there, I probably did something stupid, I am a pretty stupid drunk. I mean, ugh, I've ruined my tights, smoked too much, lost my shoes, don't remember big patches of the night, don't even know where I am, I'd swear to myself I'll never drink again if I knew I wouldn't just go and break it at the first opportunity.

See that's the worst thing about South Park, there's fuck all to do when you're my age aside from school, going to the mall, going to see a movie when the two screen run down movie theatre plays something good and they often don't get anything I'm interested in seeing, or going out to Denver, which is really only possible if you or one of your friends has a car. The other alternative is to hang out, hanging out often translates to drinking.

I look down at the hole in my tights and notice something altogether worse than the hole – teeth marks. I have fucking teeth marks on my leg, no wonder it fucking hurts. I have a sore patch on my back too, and my collarbone, and my boob. _Oh fucking great, you've done something with someone again and yet again you haven't remembered, slut. _I think to myself and barely suppress a groan, instead continuing to smoke my cigarette.

I'm so lost in mentally telling myself off about my behaviour that it makes my jump when the front door slams shut behind me.

"Bonjour." A brunette man says as he pulls out a cig and then searches his pockets for a light.

"Here," I tell him handing him mine, so he lights his cigarette and sits down next to me and I try and look at him without him noticing because I'm trying to figure out who he is, I've seen him in bars, at parties. I don't really know him though, all I know is that he's a friend of Kyles and he doesn't go to our school. We've spoken a few times but I've been drunk every single one and I don't even know his name.

"Ah, merci," he says handing my lighter that isn't really mine back to me.

"No worries dude," I tell him with a smile, "I think I was told your name last night, but I was wasted, what was it again?" I put out the end of my fag and light another one.

"Christophe," He replies, "You?"

"I'm Bebe," I tell him, actually looking over at him. I have vague memories of him from last night, though they really are only vague.

We smoke in silence until somebody else comes out, I don't turn to see who it is, I don't have to because in mere moments they've spoken up.

"Bitch, why aren't you in the kitchen where you belong?" I feel a socked foot poke me right in the bruise on my back and look up to see Kenny standing over me.

"Shut up," I reply with a smirk as Kenny nods at Christophe and then sits himself down between us.

"Those are my shoes," Kenny says conversationally. This is why I like borrowing things from Kenny; he just doesn't care as long as you give them back. "You owe me a cig now," Nothing ever comes free with him so I hold out the packet and he takes one and sparks up with a pink lighter that could well be mine. "Why are you wearing my shoes?"

"I lost mine," I explain and both boys snort. I pout at the pair of them, "So not funny."

"Eet ees," Christophe shrugs.

I'm about to retort when Kenny starts snickering, "So you two getting friendly after last night?"

_What?_ I'm startled for a few moments wondering what the fuck the boy is talking about now but I don't want to let on that I don't know what he means, some guys get pissy when you don't remember them, something to do with ego. I look at Christophe who's frowning and hope to God he's not one of those guys.

"What ze fuck are you on about, fag?" Christophe demands and Kenny just laughs until the Frenchman hovers his cig near Kenny's arm.

"So neither of you remember falling out of a toilet cubicle all roughed up together?" Kenny says barely suppressing his laughter.

I look over at the brunette for a few minutes as everything floods back and fits into place. My back got banged on the toilet roll holder, which we broke off the wall, my tights ripping on my nail as I tried to get them back up after we broke the cubicle door, the sore on my collarbone must be a lovebite. Christophe smirks and checks out my rack and then grins. Once upon a time I would have gotten angry over that, but I'm not that girl anymore.

I start to laugh, covering my mouth with my hand as my cheeks go red. "Sorry for forgetting, dude." I think though that he forgot too and should hopefully deal with it. "Don't know how I could," I add with a wink.

"Should 'ave looked at zem not your face," Christophe shrugs with a gesture at my chest.

Kenny gapes like a goldfish because I've punched guys for less than that. I don't, not this time, I haven't got the energy and honestly I couldn't bring myself to care after I was the one breaking a toilet cubicle with him last night anyway.

"Yeah should have, dude!" I laugh, "I'm going in now, I'm frozen."

"She's fuckin' 'ot," I hear as I close the door behind me, I smirk and walk back towards the bedroom. I didn't really do too badly, I must admit. Least it wasn't Cartman.


End file.
